Mystery and Mayhem
by GypsyMoonshine
Summary: Set three years post-EC. NOTE: have finally posted ch. 9! Am still working on ch. 10! PG-13 for future chapters.
1. Storm Of Fate

I would like to say that it was a bright, sunny, carefree afternoon, a group of horses grazing nonchalantly, a gentle breeze lifting the willow leaves from the ground. But alas, it was not to be.  
  
It was actually a cold, dark, rainy night, one that you would never want to be out in, especially at midnight. And not a soul was out, but for one. And a very small one, come to that. Struggling with a heavy bag over one shoulder, a slight figure determinedly fought through the gale, cloak whipping up in the wind. The freezing rain slowed for a few seconds, letting into view a large castle. More like a manor, really. Quite a few towers and turrets and other such things that make a house a home. Returning to our subject. A relieved sigh escaped lips blue with the cold. The figure stumbled up the steps and slipped through the intricate wrought iron gates. After another long walk up the gravel drive, the dark figure reached the doors. After a moment's hesitation, a pale, graceful, long- fingered hand emerged from the billowing cloak and rapped sharply, briskly, three times on the door.  
  



	2. You've Got A Vistor

Authoress' notes- I do not own any of these characters except Circe. Don't sue me, I don't have any money it would be a waste of your time. And my lawyer kicks butt...  
  
After a few moments the door opened, revealing an agitated blonde teenager in jeans. "May I speak to the owner of this house?" inquired the figure quietly. The girl shrugged. "Sure. Follow me." She held the door open for the figure, who stepped into the warm house, then closed it. She led the figure through the well-lit stone passageways, making sure not to step too close to the figure. Something seemed wrong with the air around that long, black cloak. It seemed to repel light and make the air shimmer slightly. And the figure moved in a way that wasn't quite human, making absolutely no noise.  
They finally reached the right door and the teenaged girl stopped and knocked. A voice called, "Yes?" She leaned in closer to the door and called, "Someone wants to talk to you." There was a pause. "Send them in, Juliet." She opened the door, and then closed it after the figure had swept inside. She walked down the halls back to the kitchen, shuddering. She felt sorry for arty. He'd have to deal with that creep. 


	3. Memories

Authoress' notes ~ Sorry about the really short chapters. I'm currently on the run from our friends, the Russian mafiya, so I don't get too much typing time. Internet's been out a lot too. Ah well.  
  
Please review! I need criticism! Constructive criticism, though! I do not own anything but the Artemis Fowl trilogy, the Lord of the Rings DVDs, and a laptop! Don't sue me, cuz u wouldn't get any money! My lawyer kicks butt...And now, without further delay, Mystery and Mayhem! (((And there was great rejoicing))) ```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````  
  
The figure surveyed the room before it. There were dark wood shelves filled with old and valuable-looking books around the walls, and several computers were displaying a screensaver. Only one was in use.  
  
A pale, raven-haired teenager sat in front of one of the monitors, typing inhumanly fast. He didn't seem to notice that he wasn't alone, just kept typing, indigo eyes glued to the screen.  
  
"One moment," he said suddenly, still not looking around or slowing down, "I have to finish this report."  
  
The figure nodded and stood, dripping silently for another minute or so, when he finally stopped and looked up, leaning back in the comfortable leather office chair.  
  
"How may I be of service?"  
  
The figure hesitated for a moment, then spoke. "I seek Artemis Fowl the Second."  
  
He blinked at the voice. He had been expecting sinister, gravelly tones. Instead: the pure, clear voice of a trained singer. "You're speaking to him."  
  
The figure reached up and slowly pulled down the light-sucking black hood.  
  
The pale, haunted face of a teenaged girl his own age stared out at him. There seemed to be something wrong with her eyes, they didn't look quite human. Waves of jet-black hair cascaded down her back, dripping onto the expensive plush carpet.  
  
Artemis could tell he was gaping but he didn't care. He knew that face. "Wait, her ears... something's wrong with her ears... they're pointed... she must be an elf... how'd I know that? And her eyes..."  
  
His muddled thoughts were interrupted by her voice.  
  
"Confused?" she asked, smiling a little.  
  
He blinked again. "Yes," was about all he could think of to say. For the first time in years, he was shocked almost speechless.  
  
She sighed. "You would be. You were mind-wiped by Commander Root three years ago, after the C-Cube incident. Ringing any bells here?"  
  
He thought. Yes, Commander Root seemed familiar, though he couldn't place it, but the C-Cube... that he knew. Suddenly thoughts and phrases went through his head in a stream, and though he certainly remembered some of them, others were completely foreign.  
  
"Raise your game or send someone intelligent..." "I don't like lollipops..." "What would I have to do to buy a wish...?" "Captain Short, I presume..." "Forget it. I've been in Russia before. It didn't kill me..." "...deep behind those layers of deviousness, you have a spark of decency..." "It was a difficult healing, no way to predict the outcome..." "I never tell anybody exactly how clever I am. They would be too scared..." "...Yes, Artemis. This is goodbye, for the last time..."  
  
The feeling of those memories slowly coming back almost overpowered Artemis. He rested his aching head in his hands, taking deep, shaky breaths.  
  
When he finished composing himself, he looked directly into those inhuman eyes and croaked, "What do you want, fairy?" 


	4. Sanctuary and Dryads

Authoress' notes~ I have writers block! Curs't muses have abandoned me! So if you think what comes next sux monkey balls, it's not my fault! Don't burn the harmless authoress! Constructive criticism, advice, or the joke of the day are welcome! And for you who haven't discovered the review button, it's blue and it's at the bottom of the page! You press "go" and then tell me how bad I suck! Get it? Got it? Good! Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters you may recognize, blah, blah, blah, you know the drill... And now, on with the show! ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
She laughed softly, then stepped forward, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off absently.  
  
"Sanctuary. All I want is sanctuary. No more. I'll even work for it, if you want me to."  
  
He was taken aback. "Why do you need sanctuary? Can't you just go back to Haven?"  
  
She grinned nastily. "Oh, I'm not allowed in Haven."  
  
This made no sense at all. "You're a fairy, are you not?"  
  
Which only made her grin wider. "No. I am not a fairy, and darn proud. I am a dryad. A race of the Fae that have been persecuted, since Frond knows when, because we're different. A little like Mud Men gypsies, now that I think of it."  
  
Artemis stashed this little fact away while asking, "In what ways, different?"  
  
More powerful magic, height, and, for lack of a better word, Gothicness. See, we can do all the things elves can do, and more, so they're jealous. And most dryads are around five foot three, so we blend in with the Mud crowd better. Also, we're almost as photosensitive as dwarves, and have a natural tendency to gothic styles. Most dryads are born pale, with black hair and blue eyes. Much like you, in fact..." she trailed off in the middle of the sentence, then took a deep breath. "My family was killed last year in New York City in the States, where we had been living. I only survived because I'd been visiting a dwarf friend, and got home just in time to see the goblins leave, toting their softnoses. I've been looking for a place to stay since. I can't go back to the states; there are goblins in every major city. So I came here. Would you let me stay here, at least temporarily, until I can find a place somewhere else? I'd work for board..."  
  
Artemis contemplated this. She had, after all, restored his memory of the People... but what if the fairies found out and decided, what the heck, we'll just kill Fowl, too. But how could he turn her down?  
  
"All right, but I'd at least like to know your name." he stood up, pushing the desk chair in neatly.  
  
"The name's Circe. Circe Archer. Don't you dare laugh."  
  
He scowled, "hey, it's no worse than Artemis Fowl. Ancient Greek and a common noun."  
  
She grinned and clapped her hands cheerfully. "Exactly."  
  
Artemis sighed and pulled his walkie-talkie off his belt, speaking into it. "Butler. Come up to the study, if you will. We have a visitor who would like to see her room." 


	5. Of Fruit Bats And Breakfast Cereals

Authoress' notes ~~ the formatting is screwed again, I'll try to fix it but I'm making no promises...ooh if anyone wants to see a really weird and not altogether sane drawing of... well I'm pretty sure she's a daemon... yeah, well, anyway, if you wanna see it, email me or review or something, and I'll do my best to get it to you within a week. Sorry about the short chapters, I've had an extreme case of writers block...Oh oh I have a news flash! My birthday is today, October the fifteenth in the year two thousand three.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in this fic, I am not Colfer, if I was, I wouldn't be writing on fanfiction.net, I'd be finishing another brilliant novel.... ; )  
  
*Tobias and Adrian roll their eyes* "Yeah, so without further rambling from this here freak, we'd like to present to you--"  
  
~MYSTERY AND MAHEM, CHAPTER FIVE~ OF FRUIT BATS AND BREAKFAST CEREALS  
  
..: FIVE MINUTES LATER :..  
  
Circe looked in awe around the humongous room she'd been given to sleep in. There was a comfortable queen-sized four-poster bed, a bedside table, an antique desk with a brand-spanking-new computer on it, along with some pens and a printer, and some other expensive and intricately inlaid furniture.  
  
She choked. "All of this is for me?"  
  
Artemis looked around, and then nodded. "Of course. You didn't think that I would make you sleep in the cellar, did you? Even I'm not that uncivilized."  
  
"Well, I guess I may as well get unpacked, then." She set down her pack on the bed and opened it, pulling out a pair of black doc martens, some black pants, two black t-shirts, and a black leather jacket, all soaked. "I guess I'll have to beg something off you to sleep in..."  
  
He sighed. "Of course. Juliet has something, I believe. Butler, would you go ask her?"  
  
Butler left, looking extremely relieved at not having to stay. (...and listen to the absolute chaos that would, quite possibly ensue. But he didn't know that.)  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Circe was amazed. First this room, and now this...ensemble. It sort of resembled one of those outfits that teenagers on TV shows wore to bed. A tight Abercrombie and Fitch shirt, black silk pajama pants, and a matching scrunchie. It wasn't what she would've chosen, but it was a heck of a lot better than sleeping in the buff.  
  
She got dressed, then carefully peeled back the layers of silk sheets, sliding between them without wrinkling the comforter, which was some kind of expensive-feeling velvety material. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, dreaming uneasily of the night the house of cards that was her life fell to the ground.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Yes, the title is a tribute to Monty Python and the Holy Grail (a quote from the Book of Armaments), and NO, it does not, in any way, shape, or form, pertain to the events in this pathetically short chapter. I am thinking of revising the name of this fic. If you have any suggestions as to what you think it should be called, please tell me so. I am reachable by my email, which is on my bio, or by reviewing, reviewing being preferable. Or, if none of that made sense, R&R! 


	6. In Which A Plot Appears And Demands Suga...

Authoress' notes ~~ I'm going to try to lengthen the chapters, but I have some problem with finding a place to stop sometimes. I'll work on getting an actual plot into the story where everyone can see it and therefore not be disappointed in my abysmal writing skills. If you wanna kill me, you'll have to take a number. The line starts over there.*points to a spot behind a guy with lots of tattoos and a Harley* (I told him to stick his Harley where the sun don't shine...Long story.)  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anything but this rather pathetic fic, a few, um.... "toys" (of the dangerous variety. Let's just say Butler and I have got quite a bit in common.), the Artemis Fowl books, the Silmarillion, my laptop that I love so much, and an Elvish dictionary. (Not that I really need it, I'm fluent, but hey, sometimes my grammar ain't as good as it could be.)  
  
*Adrian looks around.* "Well, Tobias ain't here, so I guess I'm flying solo. Please enjoy the fic and deposit all trash in the receptacles outside the theatre. And now, on with the show!!"  
  
~MYSTERY AND MAYHEM, CHAPTER SIX~ IN WHICH A PLOT APPEARS AND DEMANDS SUGAR  
  
Excerpt from Artemis Fowl's diary, Disk 4 (encrypted)  
  
Last night was a strange night. As usual, my odd-hours habits kicked in around two AM, right when I would much rather be asleep. Alas, insomnia does not set appointments. So I ended up wandering around the manor, angling toward the kitchen for some tea.  
  
However, when I got closer to the fairy's room, I heard this strange, quiet screaming, a bit like a dog whimpering, but...unearthly, somehow. I hurried to the room to make sure everything was all right. When I knocked, nobody answered, so I opened it a crack to make sure nothing was dying in there (that was what it sounded like). I couldn't see anything, so I stepped inside and stood hesitantly by the door.  
  
Nothing was dying; the fairy was the one making the noise. She was moaning softly in her sleep. The look on her face was one of complete hopelessness and despair. I couldn't stand the noise, so I thought hard and fast on how to make her stop. The only thing that famed brain could procure was undeniably crazy. Pouring water over the poor girl would probably end me up in the hospital with a broken neck and a concussion, and then where would "human-fairy relations" be?  
  
As I was thinking this, she stopped keening and seemed to fall out of whatever nightmare she'd been in, but this hardly changed much. Small, choked sobs, barely audible, were now coming from the four-poster. I don't know what came over me. I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapping my arms around her. Strange thing to do, really. But then she woke up. She stared at me for a second, then shuddered, leaned her head against my shoulder, and started crying uncontrollably. Every one of those sobs could have brought the world to an end. I have never seen such blind, helpless misery in my life. I hope to never again. When this show of desolation ground to a halt, I was nearly asleep and Circe was dead to the world.  
  
I really don't know what's happening to me. Human impulses are not normal for me. I really must try to find out what could possibly make her cry like that.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Circe woke up late, and felt horrible. She rolled out of bed, and did fifty push-ups to wake herself up. It had become a habit over the years. The dryad got some dry clothes from the bedside table (all jet-black, of course...) and pulled them on, not caring if they were wet or wrinkled or covered in shaving cream. (None of the above was actually on them, thought you might like to know...) She pulled her hair up and twisted it into a messy bun, then noticed a note on the table by the door to the hall. It read:  
  
Circe: the kitchen is one floor below you. Go down the stairs, and take the right corridor. It's the door in the very middle on your left. Find something to eat and bring it to the dining room. See you then- Juliet  
  
Circe smiled. Breakfast was just what she needed. Some toast and bacon and, of course, coffee! After all, man (woman) does not live by bread alone...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Artemis was eating his breakfast peacefully when a certain someone burst through the door, carrying bacon, toast, and strawberry jam in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other, singing what seemed to be a modified cheer. "I feel foolish, yes I do! I feel foolish, how 'bout you?"  
  
It seemed that it was gonna be a long day  
  
~~~~~  
  
Do ya like it? Because I know the title states that in this chapter, a plot appears... but I got writers block! And it's that time of month again, that might have something to do with it... Moving right along, I would love to wish a painful death upon those who haven't reviewed, and give free frappachinos to those who have. Or, if you are violently allergic to caffeine, like me, a free 100 Grand bar! And if you're allergic to things in 100 Grands, then you don't get nothin, punk! 


	7. Explanations

Authoress notes ~~ thanx all you reviewers, and yes, Captain Jack rocks the world, but I just gotta say that Will Turner is way sexier. He just is. Jack's cool n all, but ya can't get any better than Will.  
  
Anyway... I know Artemis is just a little bit OOC, but it's for a good reason, which I just might reveal in this chapter, so STAY TUNED!!  
  
Other than that, I've got nothing to say, except that I've got a new story in the works, which has no romance at all, at least not between Arty and the other protagonist. I'm still coming up with a title, so as soon as I've got one, the little number next to my name on the search engine won't be ONE anymore, but TWO!! Or NI, for Caspian, who can only count in Japanese, as far as I can tell...  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anything but myself and... Some books....And my laptop....And some DVDs...Honest....0; )  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN (or Chapitre Sept, for all you French people reading this)  
  
"EXPLANATIONS"  
  
Circe set down the food on the table and plopped into a chair. She didn't even notice Artemis staring at her as she slathered strawberry jam on the wheat toast. Until after a minute or so, when she looked up. "Oh, it's you." She said, and then started singing quietly to herself, "I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay..."  
  
Artemis hadn't noticed last night exactly how thin this girl was. Now it finally hit him. She was shorter than he was, which was really a relief, and so slender he could probably fit his hands around her waist if she stood up straighter. It really was disconcerting to see someone that delicate-looking singing a song about bisexual lumberjacks and slathering an unhealthy amount of jam on toast, while rocking back and forth in time to the song. At least for our hero, who had never really encountered anyone like Circe....  
  
Artemis shook his head and returned to reading Black Coffee by Agatha Christie. Or that's what he pretended to be doing. He was really listening to Circe, who was still singing the lumberjack song ("I wear high heels, suspenders and a bra...") It seemed to be about friendly woodsmen who would rather be friendly woodswomen (A/N:I know this is what John Cleese said about that particular skit, but it makes sense. Moving on...)  
  
While eating the toast, Circe seemed to run out of lyrics and instead started saying random things about swallows in a fake British accent. ("Well, see, African swallows are non-migratory...)  
  
This went on for some time before the Fowl heir couldn't take it anymore, and interrupted, "Where do you get all this nonsense anyway?"  
  
Circe looked rather taken aback. "Monty Python, of course. Only the geniuses of their time..."  
  
He shook his head and wondered where the helpless, miserable girl of last night had gone, because this couldn't be the same person. Then it FINALLY occurred to him to ASK HER!  
  
(A/N no, you think? And he's got the highest tested IQ in Europe... no people skills at all....)  
  
"Circe," he inquired, "did you wake up at bout two-thirty this morning, like from a nightmare?"  
  
She thought for a while, then nodded. "Yeah, I think so... why? Did I wake you up, all the way down the hall?"  
  
He tried to think of a good way to explain how it happened without making it seem like he'd been watching her sleep or anything like that.  
  
"I couldn't sleep, and so I took a walk around the manor. When I passed your room, you were yelling in your sleep. You woke up almost as soon as I opened the door to see what was wrong, and started crying, for no apparent reason. Would you care to enlighten me?"  
  
She blushed, apparently embarrassed that he'd mentioned what she obviously saw as a weakness, and put her face in her hands. "Well, you've gotta understand that I haven't had a happy life," she said, speaking through her fingers, "My family gone, no food, no money, no friends, mercenaries after me. It all kinda builds up. If you'd seen the things I have, you'd probably get nightmares sometimes too. Good enough explanation for you?"  
  
Artemis seemed satisfied, but he had more to say. "While we're on the subject of your former life, could you explain to me exactly what kind of magic I'm dealing with here? I would like to know what kind of person I'm housing."  
  
She perked right up when she heard that. "Would you like a demonstration?"  
  
He quickly dispelled any hopes of that. "No, no, an explanation will do just fine, thank you very much."  
  
She looked disappointed, but launched into a description of her powers anyway. "Okay, so you got your basic mesmer, healing powers, gift of tongues, and intuition. And then you've got your more advanced sense of music and art (including the ability to forge signatures and paintings), photographic memory, and ability to immediately use almost any kind of weapon, especially the ancient kind, like longbow and bolas and stuff. And then, we get to the really advanced stuff: certain psychic abilities, including some mind reading, (but no worries cuz I'm not very good at that); conjuring stuff out of thin air, which I AM good at; the ability to inhabit the minds of animals and morph into them; and green magic. I really like the more advanced spells and stuff. They're more fun."  
  
She said all of this while ticking them off on her fingers. It looked pretty funny, actually, if you considered that she was ticking off the different kinds of magic and its uses.  
  
So, while she had been doing so, Artemis had been taking notes on that infamous PDA of his. He read them over, then looked up at Circe, who was drinking her coffee serenely.  
  
"So you're basically a sub-goddess, right?" he asked.  
  
"Basically; I would really lean more towards the title of 'enchantress' than sub-goddess, though. That's why my name's Circe. After the Greek siren, you know?"  
  
He nodded, "That's what I thought. Just making sure; I didn't want to offend you, as that is a rather touchy subject for some people..." he trailed off, but Circe didn't notice. She was concentrating on stacking the coffee cup on top of the plate and jam jar. She was biting on her tongue in an almost ridiculous show of concentration, considering what she was doing. When she finally accomplished this feat of ..... ah..... (sub) epic proportions, she looked up and grinned at Artemis, who was agape.  
  
"Working on my motor skills, Arty," she told him, "My mother always told me I needed to work on fine motor skills; stacking and such."  
  
He groaned. "Well, I cant really contradict your mother, but is it really necessary to do this in public?"  
  
Circe looked around and then whispered conspiratorially in his ear, "I never did what mom said until she hung me in the air for a week running, with no food or water. Now I do whatever the voices in my head tell me to do."  
  
He looked horrified, and she doubled up laughing. "Just kidding, mate, I haven't got voices," she sniggered. He looked extremely relieved.  
  
"Well, moving on, I thought I'd ask, do you feel like you need more clothes? I noticed that the only ones you had last night were some pants and shirts and a jacket."  
  
She looked delighted. "You mean, you would pay for me to buy clothes?"  
  
He sighed. "Yes, but I want to be able to see what you're buying. And you get two hundred dollars to spend. Not just clothes, either. Whatever you need for your hair, toiletries, et cetera. Do you feel up to shopping?"  
  
The answer to which was the obvious and enthusiastic, "Yes, sir!!"  
  
"All right then. Are you ready to leave? The drive to Dublin is about a half hour."  
  
"Of course I'm ready to leave. The question is, are you up to date on the rules of shopping with a girl, and can you follow them?" was her rather cryptic response.  
  
That grin seemed a little too mischievous, if you asked Artemis...  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~  
  
**FIVE MINNUTES LATER IN THE CAR, EN ROUTE TO DUBLIN**  
  
"So what do you say when I ask you if something makes me look fat?"  
  
He recited boredly, "I say, you look beautiful. Are you done quizzing me on the etiquette of shopping?"  
  
Circe thought. "Just tone more question. If I wear something so sexy it takes your breath away, then what do you do?"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "I stare and make it obvious that you look nice in that particular outfit. Happy?"  
  
"Yes. You have good manners; this shouldn't be too hard to apply to real life. Just one thing; don't tell me I can't pick mostly black?"  
  
Artemis was confused. "You mean you're not still in mourning?"  
  
"Of course not. I mean, I'm still sad and all, but I'm Goth anyway, remember?"  
  
Butler interrupted, "We're here, people. Steel yourselves for teenagers on shopping highs."  
  
They all took deep breaths and opened the doors. The sight that greeted their eyes wasn't pretty. You have to remember, this was a Saturday at the only mall in Dublin... 


	8. Authoress' Note

Authoress' note: this is not an actual chapter!!! I would like to share the wealth and give you these lovely paintings I found while looking for movie news. I did not paint these. I just found them and thought they were pretty good. So look at them and I know that Arty is wearing a sweater vest, but this is not wrong!! It was done by some Brit, so I guess its okay!! And I know he does not wear glasses, but it kinda makes sense, in this case. Even if he does look like Harry Potter for a moment...  
  
So here they are. You'll hafta take out the spaces when you put it in your browser.  
  
h t t p : / / g r o u p s . m s n . c o m / T h e U n d e r w o r l d A n A r t e m i s F o w l F a n C l u b / a r t e m I s f o w l p I c s . m s n w ? a c t i o n = S h o w P h o t o & P h o t o I D = 1 4  
  
h t t p : / / g r o u p s . m s n . c o m / T h e U n d e r w o r l d A n A r t e m i s F o w l F a n C l u b / a r t e m i s f o w l p i c s . m s n w ? a c t i o n = S h o w P h o t o & P h o t o I D = 1 3 


	9. It's Not Dead, It's Just Resting

Authoress' note ~~ at one point, I had another fic up, but I stupidly forgot to ask permission from Nyghtvision to borrow some things, so I took it off. As soon as I get her okay, it'll be up again and you'll be able to read it. Yay!!  
  
Anyway, I am getting ideas for *this* fic from two places:  
  
One, a story I wrote a few years ago, set in the fourteenth century, about pretty much the same thing. That's where I've gotten subject matter up till now.  
  
Two: a story I'm writing currently with a friend, who is an angel of mercy and allows me to quote her online. If I say anything belongs to one Sarah, that's her. She loves anime and has a much better vocabulary than I do. Obviously.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Artemis or Butler or anyone else but Circe and her history, which I make up on the spot. ^^*  
  
*Tobias flies in thru window* "Sorry I'm late, guys, I had an appointment with a mouse...."  
  
*glares at him* "You're disgusting, Tobias. Cant you at least eat the poor thing somewhere else?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then just get on with it. You too, Adri."  
  
*both step up to mike and clear throats simultaneously.* "It is our very great pleasure to present to you..."  
  
MYSTERY AND MAYHEM, CHAPITRE HUIT: "IT'S NOT DEAD, ITS JUST RESTING..."  
  
Circe was appalled at the selection of clothing in the women's section. "All plus sizes. Bright colors. Out of style. I guess I'd better try the junior's section, huh, Artemis?"  
  
Artemis snapped out of the daze he'd set himself in and looked around, confused. "What was the question?" he asked.  
  
"I'm going to the junior's section. Meet you at the dressing rooms over there in ten minutes. I need someone to evaluate my choices. Bye!" she waved cheerily and skipped off towards the other end of the store, not caring if people stared at the tiny, Goth-type teenager in Docs.  
  
Artemis shook his head and meandered slowly in that direction, not really choosing a destination but hoping it was somewhere close to the junior's dressing room. He didn't want Circe to lecture him on punctuality.  
  
```````````````  
  
Meanwhile, our heroine was happily choosing out a black mini that went perfectly with her Docs and matched a black button-down shirt she was already holding in her other hand.  
  
Circe kept a running tally on the prices so she didn't have to take something back at checkout. "Let's see, I've got three pairs of pants, a skirt, two tee-shirts, a button-down, a sweatshirt, and a pair of fishnets, one hundred seventy-five quid. Not bad. Now I need some makeup, and then I'm set. Better start trying these on."  
  
She hurried over to the dressing rooms, almost knocking over a certain boy genius on the way. "Uno momento, kiddo!" she said over her shoulder. "Stay right there, I'll be out in a sec."  
  
She skidded her way into the handicapped stall and tried on the skirt and button-down. When she wore them outside the mall, she'd wear the fishnets, too. But it didn't look half bad without, either.  
  
Circe stared critically at her reflection. The shirt fit fine, the skirt was okay, and they were comfortable. Time for the judge of finality. She stepped out of the stall and found Artemis sitting in a chair a little ways away, chatting with Butler.  
  
"Oy, Artemis! How do I look?" she called, waving at him do get his attention. He walked over and inspected her outfit.  
  
"Not bad. You'll wear fishnets later, I presume?" he said, still looking over her.  
  
"But of course. You know me too well," she fluttered her eyelashes at him in a parody of some girl who'd noticed him on the way in from the parking lot.  
  
"Next outfit, girl. I want to finish as soon as possible." He rubbed his arm where it was aching all of a sudden. Stress did that to him sometimes.  
  
"All right. Standby for the next outfit, modeled by the stunning Circe Archer of Brooklyn," she said in a totally fake impression of a fashion show announcer.  
  
~~^^ TEN OR FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER ^^~~  
  
"Tell me honestly, do you like it?"  
  
Circe was trying out some eyeshadow. It was an impossible shade of blue, and was really too sparkly for her. Juliet, maybe. But Circe, a petite, delicate-looking Goth-type enchantress? No.  
  
"Honestly, I think it's too bright for your outfit and too sparkly to be healthy. I absolutely detest it. Don't you get glare from all that metal?"  
  
She looked at him seriously and said, "Yes, I get glare, yes, I do hate this color, and yes, you did pass the test!! Go you, Artemis!"  
  
He was only *slightly* confused, ( A/N~which was an improvement, if you ask me.....) Anyway, he asked, "What test?"  
  
"Only a true man can tell the truth about eyeshadow to a girl who he knows can deck him if she feels the need. You passed. And don't worry; I'll just stick to plain black or non-glitter purples from now on."  
  
She got a handful of other makeup items, all in either 'passion purple', 'lustful lilac' , or 'midnight black'. Artemis wasn't really surprised.  
  
The total of their spending spree was $188.79. ((A/N my laptop doesn't have a pound or euro symbol. Sorry, guys. ^^*))  
  
Not bad for a teenage girl, Artemis thought. Even one who was not human. Now I just have to survive the drive home. The thought made him sigh. At least this time she wouldn't drill him on the finer points of shopping with a girl.  
  
~~^~~^~~^~~^~~^~~^~~^~~^~~^~~^~~^  
  
yay!!  
  
I finished this chapter!!  
  
Which proves that humans can prevail over any circumstances set them, given a monkey wrench and sugar. (Long, long story. Don't ask.)  
  
Even if we are doomed through stupidity.  
  
Read and review, I am working on another songfic, called my Vietnam. It's kinda funny, but in a laughing through the tears sorta way, ya know?  
  
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Reviews are welcome, even if they're pointless. 


	10. A Voice In My Head

Authoress' notes ~~ Yay! I never thought I'd get this far!! I'm really peeved because I just read the official description of a Mary-Sue, and it describes Circe almost to a point, but I know what I'm doing, she's got a couple of MAJOR flaws, they just haven't come up yet. One of them is very common, one is pretty unique, and the last is something the world has not yet seen. Or at least I'm pretty sure it is. I haven't read *everything* on the Internet, so you may have heard of something like it before.  
  
Moving on. I'm going to steal Nyghtvision's idea of putting a song in every chapter.  
  
Here it is.  
  
CHAPTER NINE ~~ A VOICE WITHIN  
  
Young girl, don't cry/ I'll be right here/ When your world starts to fall/ Young girl it's all right/ Your tears will dry/ You'll soon be free to fly/  
  
When you're safe inside your room you tend to dream/ Of a place where nothing's harder than it seems/ No one ever wants or bothers to explain/ Of the heartache life can bring and what it means/  
  
~~ Christina Aguilera, A Voice Within  
  
A VOICE IN MY HEAD.... ~'~'~'~'~'~'~'  
  
Circe was in high spirits. She now had more than enough clothes, she'd come up with a good practical joke that she'd never use, and in two days it was New Years!  
  
She changed into the fishnets, mini, and button-down and slid on her leather jacket. It was time to have a little fun with the senior Fowls. The thought made her shiver. This was gonna be great.  
  
~"~"~"~"~"~"~"  
  
Artemis, on the other hand, was brooding. He knew something was *different* about Circe, but he couldn't really place it. This really peeved him, because, as we all know, he is not used to being one step behind anyone, especially fairies (or, in this case, dryads).  
  
See, he knew that *something* was wrong with her eyes, though he hadn't figured out what yet, and this whole split personality deal was a bit confusing. She seemed *too* happy during the day, but cried all night long. Odd, really. Ah, well, he'd unravel the mysteries of the universe later. Now, it was time for dinner.  
  
~"~"~"~"~"~"~"  
  
Angeline Fowl stepped into the dining room to see a rather odd sight: her son talking to a *girl* and her husband *paying attention*. 'It must be the sign of the apocalypse,' she thought amusedly.  
  
It wasn't often that Arty talked to anyone, let alone a *girl*, and it was even less often that Timmy paid attention to anything other than his PDA or his food at mealtimes.  
  
"Hello, Timmy, Arty, ah...." she waited for the girl to supply her name.  
  
"It's Circe, ma'am," the girl told her cheerfully, "Circe Archer."  
  
"I see. Delighted to meet you. Would anyone care to explain to me why this delightful young woman is eating with us tonight?" she inquired with a smile.  
  
Artemis complied. "Mother, Circe is an exchange student from New York City. I sent in the application a few months ago, do you remember?"  
  
Angeline couldn't, but that wasn't any big surprise. Arty did a lot of things, and though he mostly told her what he was doing, she promptly forgot the next minute. A lot of technical talk did that to her.  
  
"Yes, well, she is going to stay here with us over the summer holiday so she can learn about Ireland. High-schoolers in America do exchange trips for history class, am I right?"  
  
Circe nodded enthusiastically, playing along. "Yeah, that's right. And my MUN** class wanted a report on the touristy stuff, because the whole class is coming here for a conference next year." ((**A/N ~ That's Model United Nations, folks. High-school class. It's like history, debate team, current events, and leadership classes all rolled into one. Fun stuff. Lots of trips to other countries.))  
  
The Fowl matriarch nodded. This explanation seemed to work. "That sounds like fun. Arty, dear, why don't you take her into Dublin tomorrow? There's plenty to do there." She smiled. "Though you might want to bring Butler. There are all kinds of people in our lovely capital, and I can't say all of them are too pleasant."  
  
Her son rolled his eyes discreetly. "Yes, Mother."  
  
Circe giggled to herself. What an amusing family.  
  
At that moment Juliet came in with two bowls of tomato soup. She set them down in front of the elder Fowls and signaled for Artemis and Circe to wait a second. "Be right back," she said, hurrying back to the kitchen for their bowls.  
  
When she came back, it was with a large grin to accompany the teenagers' soup. She set Circe's down with a whispered inquiry. "So you're the girl I've heard so much about from my darling brother?"  
  
Circe nodded. "Indeed I am, your grace. Thank you for the lovely soup. It smells great."  
  
The older girl just smiled and disappeared once more into the kitchen.  
  
~"~"~"~"~"~"~"  
  
8:00 THE SAME NIGHT  
  
Circe was amusing herself by trying to get lost in the humongousness of Fowl manor. It wasn't that hard, to tell the truth. All she had to do was close her eyes, spin around a few times, and go in whatever direction she stopped at until she was thoroughly lost. Easy peasy lemon-squeezy.  
  
After about thirty minutes of random passages and the occasional dead end, Circe heard a sound she recognized vaguely. It seemed to be coming from a corridor to her right. She took that way and pressed her ear to every door, starting with the left side of the hall.  
  
She could tell that the sound was getting louder, but she still couldn't tell which door it was coming from or even what it was.  
  
She came to the last door in the hallway and pressed her ear to the solid oak. Yes, it was definitely coming from here, and she now recognized what the sound was: A piano.  
  
Circe opened the door as quietly as possible, (Which was pretty quiet, considering all the sneaking around Circe had done in her life) and peeked inside. She nearly gasped, which would have been bad, but luckily she caught herself in time.  
  
She found herself looking into a dimly lit room absolutely full of musical paraphernalia. There was a wall lined with shelves containing musty musical scores, ancient records, and CDs and soundtracks of classical and orchestral music. The far wall had glass-faced cabinets with every imaginable instrument in its proper case visible through the dusty panels. Another wall was bare of shelves or cabinets, but against it were a harp, an ancient-looking harpsichord, a bass, a double bass, and several cellos.  
  
And, in the dead center of the comfortably-sized room, was a lovingly polished but obviously very old midnight-black Steinway grand piano.  
  
Circe's eyes widened. The piano was amazing enough, but the real shocker was who was sitting on the bench, his back to the door, tapping away on the keys. The one and only Artemis Fowl the Second.  
  
Luckily, he hadn't heard her coming in over the piano, and kept right on playing. It sounded like a Christmas song to Circe, but it was a little hard to tell, as she wasn't exactly an expert on music of that kind. Her parents had never been big lovers of Christmas carols.  
  
Style aside, the music was beautiful. It reminded Circe of the days when she'd get away from the house just in time to see the sun set from a nearby rooftop, and the crisp October wind on her face, and tramping happily through snow to get to Central Park.  
  
These memories fresh in her mind, Circe sat cross-legged on the floor with her back resting against the door to listen. The flowing music seemed never- ending, and she wished this were so, because it was magical. She'd never heard anything like this music before. Nothing that could catch and hold her attention in this way. First the tune was slow, sad, and thoughtful, then it was filled with the purest joy, the sweetest light tinkling sound, and the feeling of spring. The tune was ever-changing, but always the same in heart.  
  
The dryad was so caught up in the melody, so enchanted by the shivering quality of it, that she didn't notice immediately when Artemis stopped playing. He rubbed his tired fingers for a second or two, then got off the piano bench and turned around. Artemis stiffened when he saw his sleepy one- girl audience.  
  
"How long have you been here, Circe?" he asked, trying not to let annoyance creep into his tones.  
  
She thought about it. "Oh, maybe fifteen minutes. What's that song called?"  
  
He didn't bother trying to hide his annoyance now. "It hasn't got a name. I composed it last week and haven't come up with anything to call it yet," he very near snarled at her.  
  
Circe was impressed. "Seriously? You just came up with this music last week, and you can not only remember it, but you can play it like you've known it all your life?"  
  
He smirked. "That's just about it."  
  
Which merited some astonishment from Circe. "Wow. Only Artemis Fowl."  
  
"The one and only. Are you ready to pick your jaw up off the floor and leave now?"  
  
"Sure, but only if you come too. I can't find my way back to my room, or anywhere, really, without your help," she admitted sheepishly.  
  
"I was planning on leaving anyway. Here, help me close the piano. It'll get dusty otherwise." He gestured to the Steinway.  
  
After closing the cover, Circe looked around in the instrument cabinets, apparently searching for a particular instrument.  
  
"Looking for something?"  
  
She looked up. "Yes, actually. Do you have a flute or a B flat clarinet here?"  
  
"But of course. The flute is on the shelf directly above your head, and the B flat is, I think, over here." He opened one of the cabinet doors and found the laptop-sized case. ((A/N-- Not as *thick* as a laptop, mind, but as wide and all that. It was around four inches thick.)) "Here you are. Boosey and Hawkes Paris B flat clarinet. It's never been used with that mouthpiece, so it's completely clean. Wood, mind you, not a cheap rubber or plastic, so take care of it." He handed the case to her.  
  
"Thanks very much. I assume there's a reed in the case?"  
  
He closed the cabinet door. "You assume correctly. VanDoren 2 ½."  
  
They then exited the room, Circe carrying the two instrument cases like twin briefcases. "Thanks for not getting all mad at me for sneaking in on you and stuff," Circe said quietly, "Most people would lose it right then. You've got some patience if you would take me in, pay for my clothes, put up with my oddities, and then allow me to go sneaking around and spy on you. Anyway, just thanks. I really don't know why you're doing this for me."  
  
Artemis was pensive. "I don't really know why I'm doing it either. I guess my father's influence is starting to rub off on me. Charity and nobility are not things that I normally associate myself with."  
  
Circe agreed. "You know something, Fowl; I read your file in New York. A fence hacked the LEP mainframe for me, and you alone have gotta be at least half of the 'highly dangerous' files."  
  
"Is this a surprise to you? I'm in every police file in Ireland, and likely quite a few in the States. And then bloody Interpol, who never get off my back. Even MI6, if you can believe that. I may be a criminal, but MI6 has nothing on me."  
  
"Well, I guess that's your viewpoint. They probably think you're a menace to society. And not without reason..." she grinned teasingly.  
  
He just shook his head. After another ten or twenty seconds of silent walking, they came to a spot where a smaller corridor branched off to the left of the one they were in.  
  
Artemis indicated the left branch. "Go that way until you reach stairs going up. The stairs will take you to the corridor your room is on. Third door to your right. The number to my cell phone is on a card next to the phone. If you need anything, use it. Just don't call after ten PM or before nine AM, please. I need sleep, just like regular human beings normally do. You may be able to run on two hours of sleep and a cup a coffee, but I can't."  
  
"Okey-dokey. Bye now!!"  
  
And with that she skipped off to fully explore the technology of her borrowed room.  
  
~'~'~'~'~'~'~'  
  
Okay, this chapter was *supposed* to be three chapters, but since my laptop has an internet porn virus, I cannot post, and therefore have enough time and ideas left over to make it all one big chapter. Six pages on MS Word. Not bad. I have another site recommendation. Make that two.  
  
Makingfiends.com  
  
Muffinfilms.com  
  
When you put these in your browser, stick a WWW-dot in front of them. As you know, the screening of our wonderful site kills Internet addresses. So just bear with me.  
  
I love all you reviewers.  
  
And something I noticed while checking out the latest on a friend's computer, SOMEBODY STOLE MY TITLE!!! I am fully aware that imitation is the greatest form of flattery, but that is SOOO unfair to me!! Hey, you could've at least, you know, like E-mailed me to ASK if you could use that title, which **I** CAME UP WITH, but NOOO.  
  
Okay, that aside, all is well in the world for me. I got everything I wanted for Christmas, I visited my boyfriend, I saw Return of the King.... I just have to say it.... LEGOLAS IS THE SEXIEST!!!!!!!!! ^^* yay!!  
  
I'm done with all my update crud now.  
  
~~Mornie Utulie~~  
  
GypsyMoonshine  
  
PS~ Mornie Utulie is pronounced more-nee-ay ooh-too-lee-ay. Not how it's spelled.^^* 


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